¥& 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 


;  I  KT  <  >K 


^Accessions  KoSy^.        Clax  No. 


LYRIC  TOUCHES 


JOHN  PATTERSON 


CINCINNATI 

ROBERT   CLARKE   &   CO 
1893 

U5I7BRSIT7] 


COPYRIGHT,  1893, 
BY   ROBERT  CLARKE  &   CO. 


355 


, 

MAIN 


Acknowledgment  is  made  for  their  courtesy 
in  permitting  the  use  of  copyright  poems,  to 
the  Cosmopolitan,  Peterson  and  other  .maga 
zines  and  periodicals,  • 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 

To    POLYMNIA, 9 

THE  FAN, n 

AT  SUNSET,          .                 ....  12 

To  THE  MARECHAL-NEIL  ROSE,           .  13 

Two  SIGHS,           ......  15 

THE  PARIAH 16 

A   WINTER  HEMP-FIELD,           ...  17 

WOULD!     '.......  20 

EI2    XEAIAONA, 21 

COMRADES, 22 

THE  HANDKERCHIEF,          ....  24 

A  HYMN,           ......  25 

THE  WISH,           ......  27 

DARK,         .......  28 

AD  PUERUM,        ......  30 

LOVE  AND  FANCY,           ....  31 

A  P^AN, 32 

WHEN  TO-MORROW  SHALL  BE  TO-DAY,  33 

OVER  A  PICTURE,        .....  35 

(5) 


6  Contents. 

PAGE. 

THE  BUTTERFLY  AND    ROSE,        .        .  36 

AUTUMN  LEAVES, 37 

TO-MORROW,      ......  38 

IN  MEMORY  OF  SUMMER,          ...  39 

AN  IDOL,           ......  41 

THE  VINAIGRETTE,             ....  42 

A  PRAYER,        ......  44 

UNDER  THE  ASPENS,          .         .         .         .45 

WITH  THE  ROBINS'  SONG,     ...  46 

SUB  Quo  CCELO  ? 48 

THE  SOUL,        .        .        .                 .         .  49 

IN  THE  AUTUMN  WOOD,            ...  50 

DURING  A  SONATA,        ....  53 

WITH  A  FOUR-LEAVED  CLOVER,     .         .  154 

To  THE  MOUNTAIN  MIST,     ...  55 

A  SERENADE,       ......  157 

FATE, 58 

To  A  SLIPPER, 59 

AN  AUTUMN  SONG,        .....  60 

TO-DAY, 62 

To  A  FALLEN  LEAF,       ....  63 

SUB  ROSA,             ......  64 

A  CLUSTER  OF  GRAPES,         ...  65 

VERSE,           .......  67 


Contents.  7 

PAGE. 

THE  EPIPHANY,        ...'..  68 

To  THE  STARS,            .....  60 

To  A  MOCKING   BIRD,             ...  70 

AN  OLD  MAID,            .         .        .         .         .  72 

UNDER  A  PICTURE.         ....  73 

EI2  POAON, 74 

UNDER  THE  MISTLETOE,        ...  75 

To  A  STRING   OF  PEARLS,         •         •         •  77 

FAITH, yg 

NOCTURNE,            ......  79 

THOU, 81 

WHEN,           ......  82 

THE  SILENT  GATES,        ....  84 

CHORAL  ODE, 86 


LYRIC  TOUCHES. 


TO  POLYMNIA. 

COME,  and  breathe  me  a  song,  O  Muse. 
Who  guidest  a  graceful  pen : 
Only  a  delicate,  lyric  thing, 
No  epic  and  deep  refrain. 

Round  the  rhymes  with  a  far  bird's  note 

Or  sweet,  wet  smell  of  a  rose, 
Or  a  memory  with  tear-drops  hid 

In  the  cadence  at  the  close. 

Treat  a  theme  as  an  artist  would 

A  vagrant  and  dreamy  valse, 
Leaving  the  ear  in  easy  strain 

And  finding  no  echo  false. 

(9) 


10  TO   POLYMNIA. 

The  touch  of  a  tress  on  dancer's  cheek 
Inspires  love's  deepest  sigh, 

So  if  there  be  a  line  of  love, 
Just  hint  at  a  sad,  big  eye. 

Muse,  I  long  for  a  song  to-day 

Writ  with  a  tender  pen, 
The  verses  falling  in  fragrant  shower, 

And  thoughts  all  sweet  in  their  rain. 


THE  FAN. 


THE  FAN. 

T  DYLLIC  cloud  of  flossy  down  and  silk, 
1    Like  cirrus  floating  o'er  her  hand  of  milk, 

Upon  one  satin  side  perennial  traced 

A  landscape  whence  the  daisies  never  waste : 

A  flock  of  caded  sheep  which  never  stray 
The  shepherd  with  his  reed  uplift  to  play : 

A  distant  skulking  wolf  which  can  no  harm, 
And  frets  the  timid  flock  with  vain  alarm. 

The  other  envied  side  I  can  not  see 
From  feathered  tip  unto  the  ivory. 

More  wondrous  charms  I  ween  would  be 
revealed, 

Its  own  and  of  my  love's  flush  face  con 
cealed. 


12  AT   SUNSET. 


AT  SUNSET. 

A  MEADOW  lark  is  lilting  in  the  plain, 
An  owl  forlornly  cooing  from  a  tree 
Which  velvet  winds  are  dusting  lazily. 
A  flock  of  sheep  agraze  within  the  green 
Sweet  grass,  crops  daintily  toward  the  sheen 
Of  dancing  stream  entangled  in  her  dress 
Of  violets ;  while  floats  a  restlessness 
In  toneless  fugues  of  light  above  the  scene.. 

The  sun's  last  kiss  hath  sent  a  vivid  thrill 
Through  all  he   loves.     The  meadow  and 

the  bird 
Are  left  full  strong  and  warm  against  the 

chill 
Of  clammy  night :    the   thirsty  sheep  have 

stirred 
The  dim  unsilvered  stream  and  drunk  their 

fill, 
And  dumb  with  dreaming,  follow  I  the  herd. 


TO  THE  MAR&CHAL-NEIL   ROSE.  13 


TO  THE  MARECHAL-NEIL  ROSE. 


art  like  glad  canary,  rose, 
1     Thy  silken  leaf  its  plume,  thy  showers 
Of  perfume  its  lay. 

Thou  art  like  summer  day  that  glows, 
Thy  golden  petals,  golden  hours 
In  a  bright  bouquet. 

Dropped  from  the  Dawn's  disheveled  hair  ? 
For  as  she  leaves  her  lord's  love-bed 

A  flushing  from  his  kiss, 
I've  seen  a  creamy  rich  rose  there 
Croceous-hued  fall  from  her  head, 

And  thou  art  like  to  this. 

Full  happy  are  thy  dimpled  leaves, 
For  each  is  wed  to  loving  mate 

Nor  dying  lie  apart. 
As  yellow  wheat  bound  into  sheaves 
They  cling  together  and  await 

On  one  another's  heart. 


14  TO  THE  MAR&CHAL-NEIL  ROSE. 

Thou  livest  only  summer's  length, 
And  canst  not  bear  the  birds'  good-bye 

Like  the  asters  cold. 
The  sun  must  woo  thee  in  his  strength, 
Or  in  modest  rains  thy  scents  reply 

While  the  tale  is  told. 

What  if  thy  cup  of  life  is  small  ? 

Who  would    not  long  for  beaker  brimmed 

With  such  cordial  wine, 
A  draught  which  blends  the  sweets  of  all, 
And  then  to  rest  with  requiem  hymned 

By  birds,  O  rose  divine  ! 


TWO  SIGHS.  15 


TWO    SIGHS. 

ONE  sigh  for  a  song, 
For  a  song  that  is  sung. 
It  was  sung  me  erst  long 
Was  the  song. 

And  one  for  a  rose, 
For  a  rose  whilom  white. 
It  is  faded  to-night, 
Is  the  rose. . 

Love  sang  me  the  song, 
And  love  gave  me  the  flower 
In  a  long  vanished  hour, 
Rose  and  song. 

And  so  will  I  sigh — 
It  is  all  love  has  left : 
When  in  thought  I'm  adrift 
Will  I  sigh. 


UNIVERSITY 


16  THE   PARIAH. 


THE   PARIAH. 

NO    music   has  softened  the  din  of  her 
day- 

The   night  which  approaches  brings  music 
for  aye. 

The   roses   are    wan    in    the    way  she    has 

trod — 
In    freshness    they   bloom    on   the   grave's 

narrow  sod. 

No  peace  has  she  found  in  the  path  of  the 

past — 
Adown  by  the  cypress  she   finds  peace  at 

last. 

And   sorrow   is   fled,   burning   tears   cease 

their  flow — 
"  Thy  sins  though  as  scarlet,  shall  be  white 


A    WINTER    HEMP-FIELD. 


A  WINTER    HEMP-FIELD. 

THE    men    returning    from  the    valley 
fields 
Of  hemp  are  singing   near  the  tilted  bars 

A  strange,  wild  tune. 
The ,  tin-pails    swinging    from    their    sturdy 

arms 

Twinkle  with  silver  faces  of  vain  stars 
And  slender  moon. 

The  breaks,  like  oxen  from  the  harness  free, 
Stand  wan  with  moon-light  and  their  duty's 

dust, 

Ghostly  and  mute. 
And  crisply  crack  the  scattered  sheaves  of 

hemp  — 

Slim  lances  ready  for  the  morrow's  joust — 
To  parting  foot. 

The  fires  are  fading  of  the  burning  shives, 
The  embers  waken  from  their  ashy  swoon 
In  cloudy  pipes. 


18  A    WINTER    HEMP-FIELD. 

The    carts   go   rattling    down    the    roseless 

lane, 

Apast  the  orchard  which  presents  no  boon 
To  thirsty  lips. 

Fainter    than    distance   grows    the    homing 

throng 
Of    workmen    singing,    and    the    neighing 

team, 

Over  the  hill. 

Softer  than  shadow  is  the  breast  of  Peace 
Brooding  and  nestling  with  the  pale  moon- 
gleam 
Over  the  dell. 

God-Nature's  workmen    have    begun  their 

task. 
Their  steel  aglitter  gives  no  clamorous  time 

Nor  martial  sound. 
They   pierce   the   hemp   hearts  with    their 

silver  blades 

Of  frost,  and  fetter  with  the  rings  of  rime 
The  captive  ground. 


A    WINTER    HEMP-FIELD.  19 

These  curious  workmen  carve  their  cameos 
Into  the  onyx  of  the  frozen  field 

By  evening's  lamp. 

Mysterious  cryptograms  which  puzzle    him 
Who    saw  this   thing  within  a  winter  field 

Of  the  tented  hemp. 


20  WOULDJ 


WOULD! 

A  FULL  camellia  at  her  breast, 
As  white  and  cold 

As  if  of  snow-flakes  matched  and  held 
In  frozen  fold. 

A  flower  of  haughty  beauty  pure" 

But  no  perfume. 
More  suited  dead  Jhan  living  heart, 

The  scentless  bloom. 

What  if  her  heart  is  free  of  love's 

Perfume  as  this? 
And  if  her  lips  so  beautiful 

Are  cold  to  kiss  ? 

Would  that  the  white  camellia 

To  red  rose  turn ! 
Would  that  the  warmest  flame  of  love 

Her  dear  heart  burn ! 


EI2    XEAIAONA.  21 


El 2   XEAIAONA. 

(From  Anakreon.) 

THOU,  dear  Swallow, 
Coming  once  a  year 
Dost  braid  thy  nest  in  summer, 
In  winter  disappear 

.  To  Memphis  or  the  Nile. 
But  Love  is  ever  braiding 

Its  nest  within  my  heart, 
And  Love's-  egg  is  waiting,- 

When  Love  is  winged    to  part, 
Nearly  hatched  the  while. 
So  the  gaping  birdies' 

Cries  are  heard  alway. 
The  grown  Loves  feed  the  Lovelings ; 

No  sooner  fledged  than  they 
Are  busy  hatching  others — 

What  hope  is  then  for  me  ? 
My  strength  is  insufficient 

Such  countless  Loves  to  flee ! 


22  COMRADES. 


COMRADES. 

A  BAND  of  comrades  have  I, 
A  chosen  band  of  three 
Who  tend  my  daily  marches 
And  guard  the  tent  of  me. 

He  strong,  with  girded .  loins, 

With  shining  shield  and  mail 

And  bow  and  arrow  ready, 

Is  my  brave  warrior  "Will." 

And  often  when  the  battle 

Is  loud  with  hue  and  strife, 

And  I  am  faint  and  failing, 
His  arm  protects  my  life. 

He  swift,  with  piercing  vision, 
„  And  keen  axe  at  his  side, 
With  steps  secure  and  steadfast, 
Is  "Truth"  my  trusty  guide. 


COMRADES.  23 

And  if  when  deep  bewildered 
In  ways  unknown  and  new 

I  grasp  his  honest  fingers, 

He  leads  me  safely  through. 

She  sweet,  with  harp  and  psaltery, 
With  eyes  like  summer  shade 

And  voice  of  low  bells  linking, 

Is  "  Hope"  my  fair  handmaid. 

And  she,  when  I  am  wounded, 
With  balsam  from  her  breast 

Binds  up  my  bleeding  sinews 
And  soothes  my  soul  to  rest. 

And  so  wherever  tented, 

Their  fearless  fires  are  here, 

And  I  secure  from  danger, 

My  comrades  bivouacked  near. 


24  THE  HANDKERCHIEF. 


THE    HANDKERCHIEF. 

EXQUISITE,  airy  thing 
Linen  and  lace, 
Soft  as  a  white  dove's  wing, 
Brushing  her  face. 

Pure  as  the  tea-rose  bloom, 
Queen  of  its  band, 

Holding  the  light  perfume 
Caught  from  her  hand. 

Bordered  with  slender  lines 

Silken,  and  cleft 
Fine  as  the  spider  twines 

Into  his  weft. 

/ 

This  is  the  handkerchief 

Delicate,  sweet, 
Fallen  like  lily-leaf 

Down  by  her  feet. 


A   HYMN.  25 


A   HYMN.. 

WHEN  no  hand  helping 
In  waters  foaming 
Life  seemeth  waning, 
Thou  art  my  Rope. 
When  eyes  are  weary, 
When  days  are  gloaming, 
Still  art  Thou  near  me, 
Jesu,  my  Hope. 

When  I  a  wanderer 
Proud  through  the  passes 
Slip  into  pit-falls, 
Thou  art  my  Crook. 
When  I  a  doubter 
See  through  dark  glasses, 
Thou  comest  nearer, 
Jesu,  my  Book. 

Sound  of  the  sobbing 
Left  for  the  living 
This  can  not  reach  me, 


26  A   HYMN. 

When  on  Thy  breast. 
Groans  of  the  failing, 
Groans  of  the  striving, 
Will  be  earth-echoes, 

Jesu,  my  Rest. 

• 

White  let  them  robe  me 
Meet  for  Thy  pity, 
Lilies  to  plead  with 
Their  breath,  mine  lost. 
Into  Thy  kingdom, 
Beautiful  City, 
Jesu,  receive  me, 
Jesu,  my  Host. 


THE  WISH.  27 


THE   WISH. 

(At  Love's  Birth.) 

CLEAR,    tender   star    of    evening 
hour, 

Be  thou  as  Olden  Star  a  guide, 
Perform  for  me  thy  fabled  power, 

And  lead  his  foot-steps  to  my  side. 
The  over-curving  crest  of  heaven 

Without   thy   blue  would   be   but 

dim, 

And  as  thy  blue  to  perfect  heaven, 
Is  he  to  me,  and  I  to  him. 

Clear,  tender  star  of  evening  hour, 

Be  thou  as  Olden  Star  a  guide, 
And  when  thou  shinest  on  my  bower 

Restrain  thy  course  and  here  abide. 
I  care  not  if  he  brings  no  treasure 

Like    Eastern    princes    took   with 

them. 
No  gold  can  pay  the  price  of  pleasure 

Is  he  to  me,  and  I  to  him. 


28  DARK. 


DARK. 

LAST  night  the  mystery  of  dark  within 
A  tiny  heart  untried  of  grief  was  born 
And  baby-lips  by  sorrow's  sobs  unworn. 
A  mother's  anguish  paid  the  greed  of  pain. 

Last  night  beneath  the  shivering,  pallid  stars 
A  snowy  head  and  faded  face  were  dead; 
From  weary  heart  the  agony  was  fled, 
The  late  soul  lifted  o'er  the  Golden  Bars. 

Oh !  mystery  of  dark,  of  flowing  tears ! 
To-night,  to-morrow  will  it  still  repeat  ? 
Shall  no  last  breath  soon  earth's  design 

complete, 
Or  shall   Time's   tarnish  dim   unnumbered 

years  ? 

Hath  not  a  sculptor  carved  a  marble  fame 
Divine  enough  to  catch  immortal  flush? 
Hath  never  painter  touched  a  face  to  blush 
With  life  fulfilling  the  Creator's  aim  ? 


DARK. 


29 


Hath  poet  never  strung  the  purposed  shell 
And  never  sung  the  tuneful  song  of  songs  ? 
Among  the  aeons'  countless  beauty-throngs 
Hath  perfect  woman  never  woven  spell  ? 

When  o'er  this  pulseless  breast  blue  violets 

move, 
For    they  will  wave    feeling    my  heart   in 

them, 

Shalt  thou  be  born,  the  long-awaited  Brahm, 
To  prove  all  creeds  are  right  in  truth  of 

love? 

Beneath  this  cypress  to  the  marble  mark 
From,  in  yon  chamber,  woman's  travail  cry, 
This  one  way  we  are  passing  you  and  I  : 
Who  seek  to  see  beyond  find  ever  —  dark  ! 


30  AD   PUERUM. 


AD   PUERUM. 

(From  Horace.) 

1HATE  the  Persian  pageant,  boy, 
Rich    chaplets    twined    with    bark 

annoy. 

Forbear  to  seek  where  haply  yet 
The  wild-rose  linger  late. 

A  simple  myrtle  wreath  prepare ; 
On  nothing  else  bestow  a  care, 
For  while  I  quaff  'neath  clustered  vine, 
It  suits  my  brow  and  thine. 


LOVE  AND  FANCY.  31 


LOVE  AND  FANCY. 

1HID  my  heart 
In  a  radiant  rose  of  red — 
A  flower  flushed  with  its  touch — 
Lone  charm  in  my  tangled  bed. 

To  Fancy  brought, 

The  flower  was  left  to  die, 
Idly  breathing  its  tale. 

Forgotten  flower  and  I. 

At  last  Love  finds 

And  binds  the  rose  in  her  breast. 
I  laugh  at  Fancy's  form 

As  Love  is  tenderly  pressed. 


32  A  P^EAN. 


A  P^AN. 

THEY  have  taken  from  Zeus  his  scepter, 
They   have   banished   Bel    from    his 

throne. 

They  would  drive  my  God  from  His  Heaven 
And  leave  me  to  die  alone. 

But  I  gaze  on  His  splendid  palace, 
And  His  eloquent  envoys  there, 

The  sky  with  its  stars  of  silver, 
And  I  fancy  no  foolish  fear. 

I  look  on  His  works  of  wonder, 
The  earth,  the  sea  and  the  sun, 

And  the  work  portrays  the  Master, 
Which  none  but  He  could  have  done. 

Let  them  marshal  their  hosts  to  battle, 
I'll  brighten  my  helm  and  shield. 

And  I  know  that  in  spite  of  their  taunting 
Jehovah  shall  win  the  field. 


WHEN  TO-MORROW  SHALL  BE  TO-DAY.   33 


WHEN  TO-MORROW  SHALL  BE  TO 
DAY. 

WHEN  to-morrow  shall  be  to-day ; 
When  the  night  shall  be  wept  away, 
Will  the  kindly  sun  make  dry  our  tears, 
As  he  dries  the  dews  from  the  rose  which 

dares 

To  lift  her  blushing  face  to  be  kissed  ? 
Will  the  night's  long  anguish  fade  with  its 

mist 
When  to-morrow  shall  be  to-day  ? 

When  to-morrow  shall  be  to-day ; 
When  the  silvern  stars  grow  gray, 
And  the  herd  to  the  distant  hill  departs, 
Will  the  morning  lark  bring  the  song  to 

hearts 
Which  he  brings  to  the  depths  of  throbbing 

shy? 
As  he  sings  serenely,  shall  you  and  I 

When  to-morrow  shall  be  to-day  ? 


34    WHEN  TO-MORROW  SHALL  BE  TO-DAY. 

When  to-morrow  shall  be  to-day ; 

When  winter  hours  drift  into  May, 

When  bird  and  sweetheart  are  building  a 

nest, 

Will  love  return  to  the  empty  breast  ? 
Will  the  same  clear  eyes  again  beguile, 
Enchanting  still  with  the  old  sweet  smile, 
When  to-morrow  shall  be  to-day  ? 

When  to-morrow  shall  be  to-day ; 
When  the  clay  shall  return  to  clay ; 
When  we  to  the  Master  Death  are  thrall, 
And  willows  are  weeping  over  all, 
Will  our  sorrow  sink  in  the  River  of  Rest, 
Will  our  names  be  numbered  among  the 
best 

When  to-morrow  shall  be  to-day  ? 

When  all  to-morrows  shall  be  to-day !  ! 


OVER  A  PICTURE.  35 


OVER   A   PICTURE. 

SWEET  girl,  I  love  thee  for  thy  face 
Where  truth  and  beauty  find  a  place 
To  dwell  with  purity — a  mien 
Of  Poesy's  conceit  hast  thou — 
In  Grecian  mind  thou  must  have  been 
A  goddess  meant  for  Parian  snow. 
God  took  the   thought,  and  chiseled  thee 
From  his  divine  and  throbbing  clay. 

Above  the  pictured  face  I  dream 
And  look  until  mine  eyes  grow  dim — 
Her  features  blend  into  a  blot. 
My  heart's  cold  altar  of  desire, 
Her  eye,  a  flame  forget-me-not, 
Shall  light  forever  with  pure  fire. 
And  with  those  heaven-tender  eyes 
A  heart  shall  burn  its  sacrifice. 


36  THE  BUTTERFL  Y  AND  ROSE. 


THE   BUTTERFLY  AND   ROSE. 

A  BUTTERFLY  of  weary  wing 
r\  Flew  to  a  rose  to  rest  and  swing. 

The  butterfly,  a  bloom  of  light, 
The  rose  was  only  snowy  white. 

"Am  I  not  fair,  O  rose,"  said  he, 
' '  The  rainbow  scarce  can  fairer  be. 

"  See  where  the  gold  to  orange  turns, 
And  purple  kissed  by  crimson  burns. 

"A  flower  taught  to  fly;  a  gem 
In  azure  air  to  float  and  gleam. 

"And  like  a  falling  star  my  flight; 
While  thou  art  only  simple  white." 

I  weened  the  taunt  while  passing  by, 
And  for  the  rose  did  make  reply. 

"A  worm  art  thou  on  painted  wings, 
The  bud  is  white  from  which  she  springs. 


A  UTUMN  LEA  VES.  37 


AUTUMN    LEAVES. 

AUTUMN  leaves  of  the  forest, 
Ye  are  letters  woven  strong 
Into  tales  of  the  scarlet  woman 
In  her  revel  and  her  song. 

Ye  were  modest  in  maid's  sweet  manner, 
And  your  songs  were  pure  and  divine. 

Now  your  words  are  wild  with  passion, 
And  your  lips  are  aglow  with  wine. 

Ye  came,  and  the  sun  came  burning, 

Defiling  you  with  his  gold, 
As  a  lover  kisses  with  laughter 

Such  lips  as  are  bought  and  sold. 


38  TO-MORROW. 


TO-MORROW. 

'""pHERE  is  a  maiden  light  and  fair, 

1       With  hint  of  sunshine  on  her  hair. 
Her  deep  eyes  flash  so  dark  a  blue 
That  by  them  sapphires  lose  their  hue. 

Around  her  throngs  a  fairy  band 
Of  Hopes  all  dancing  hand  in  hand; 
While  grim  old  Time,  with  locks  of  snow 
Is  playing  for  them  where  they  go. 

And  crowds  of  lovers  vain  pursue 
The  Circe  maid  with  eyes  of  blue, 
For  if  to  kiss  her  any  tries, 
With  mocking  laugh  to  Time  she  flies. 

To-morrow  is  the  maiden's  name 
Whose  looks   the  hearts  of  men  inflame, 
Who  in  the  path  of  death  beguiles 
Still  beckoning  with  seductive  smiles. 


IN  MEMORY  OF  SUMMER.  39 


IN   MEMORY   OF   SUMMER. 

WHERE  doth  the  brimming  rose  spill 
musk 

Along  the  way, 
Where  whitely  stray 
The  smooth  bare  feet,  at  dew  of  dusk, 
Of  maiden  to  the  spring,  her  throat 
Repeating  softer  tones  than  rote 
From  tremulous  harp  wind-strung  ? 
Songs  of  thy  sweetness  sung, 

Roseal  Summer. 
» 

Dreary  these  dim  and  tearful  days 

When  ravaged  glades 

Wear  tattered  shreds, 
And  sadly  hangs  a  crape-like  haze 
Upon  the  wistful  woods  unleaved, 
While  to  thy  memory,  bereaved 
Thy  voice  a  dervish  song 
In  many  a  mystic  tongue 

Mourning  thee,  Summer. 


40  IN  MEMORY  OF  SUMMER. 

When  mocking  winds  are  flaunting  snow 

On  meadows 

Which  they  froze, 

I  wonder  where  thy  warm  winds  flow 
Scented  with  floating  blossom-shells, 
Sweetly  fluctuate  to  thy  calls 
And  flower-fingered  hand, 
And  where  the  blue-bird  band 

Lilts  to  thee,  Summer  ? 

If  I  were  where  thy  lilies  sigh 

In  perfumed  prayers 

Unto  the  stars, 

Their  sainted  kindred  of  the  sky, 
Could  they  and  birds  retune  my  heart 
To  gladder  mood  and  happier  art ; 
Have  my  dear  hopes  outflown 
Thy  scepter  and  thy  throne, 

Summer,  sweet  Summer  ? 


AN  IDOL.  41 


AN   IDOL. 

THERE  are  pearls  like  those  of  the  cir 
cling  sea 

Whiter  than  beads  of  milk  can  be. 
But  they  must  be  gained  with  glittering  gold, 
For  pearls  like  the  shivering  sea  are  cold. 

There  are  two  sapphires  blinding  blue 
Like  pieces  of  sky  which  have  fallen  through, 
But  a  palace's  luster  must  light  the  gems, 
For  in  a  cottage  no  sapphire  gleams. 

There  are  twin  rubies  of  warmer  red 
Than  breasts  of  robins  by  arrows  bled. 
But  only  mammon  can  kiss  their  ray, 
Remote  as  the  distant  stars  from  me. 

And  these  fair  gems  in  an  idol  are 
That  will  crush  me  under  her  cruel  car. 
For  others  are  offering  riches  rife, 
And  I  can  offer  but  love  and  life. 


42  THE  VINAIGRETTE. 


THE   VINAIGRETTE. 

AN  incensed  fane 
By  silvery  chain 
There  swings : 
A  gleaming  mold 
Where  cling  in  gold 
Strange  things. 

The  good  Koran 
Doth  damn  the  man 

Who  spun 
The  dragon  wings, 
And  beasts  and  things 

Thereon. 

* 
And  yet  this  rest 

Of  bird  and  beast 

In  rows 
The  girl  I  woo 
Keeps  lifting  to 

Her  nose ; 


THE  VINAIGRETTE.  43 

And  out  and  in 
The  stopper  thin 

She  draws, 
Her  hands  retrace 
From  lap  to  face 

Because 

This  temple-tray 
Ammonia 

Conceals — 
This  silhouette 
A  vinaigrette 

Reveals. 


44  A  PRAYER. 


A    PRAYER. 

OH  !  come  to  my  sorrow, 
Peace,  like  the  calm  to  the  sea, 
And  bring  to  the  haunted  darkness 
Light  from  eternity. 

Keep  watch  on  my  mourning, 

Stars  of  the  steel  bright  beams, 

And  send  from  the  realm  of  heaven 
Hope  with  her  peaceful  dreams. 

Attune  to  my  comfort, 

O  Lyre  of  Heavenly  Love, 
And  perch  on  my  burthened  bosom, 

Rest,  like  the  white  Ghost-Dove. 

Oh  !  come,  gentle  Slumber, 

Press  thy  sweet  lips  to  my  eyes, 

And  whisper  like  a  mother  crooning, 
The  promise  of  Paradise. 


UNDER  THE  ASPENS.  45 


UNDER   THE   ASPENS. 

HE  minstrel-wind's  love  touch  hath  made 
\       The  gleaming  bosom  of  the  lake 
To  palpitate  in  sweet  alarm. 
The  aspen  trees  resent  the  kiss 
The  saucy  reveler  gave,  trembling 
Musically  to  eye  and  ear. 
While  silvery  leaves  beam  like  faint  stars, 
And  twinkle  in  the  tender  blue. 

A  careless  dreamer  lies  beneath 
The  milky-way  of  leaves,  and  loves 
To  hear  the  tales  the  poplars  tell — 
How  such  a  lover  said,  "  I  love," 
And  carved  within  their  snowy  peel 
Two  names  he  would  were  one. 


46  WITH  THE  ROBINS'  SONG. 


WITH   THE   ROBINS'   SONG. 

O  WEET  is  the  robins'  vesper  song 
vj  Which  melts  in  the  blaze  of  golden  sky, 
As  the  sun  goes  down  and  the  birds  fly  by 
And  come  in  the  maize  with  their  melody, 

Where  the  purple  corn-flowers  cling 

Close  to  the  stalks  of  the  withering  maize, 
Like  memories  cling  to  fading  days 

And  bloom  in  the  heart  in  the  evening  haze. 

With  breasts  as  red  as  the  mellow  peach 
And  red  throats  rounded  with  songs  out 
pour 
They  seem  ripe  fruits  as  the  day  is  o'er, 

And  corn  to  bear  what  the  peach-trees  bore. 

The  reapers  rest  on  their  silvery  scythes 
Or  silently  lie  on  the  heaps  of  husk, 
While   from   the    dimbles    of    corn,    the 
musk 

Of  flowers  and  the  robins'  song  in  the  dusk. 


WITH  THE  ROBINS'  SONG.  47 

Sing  on,  suave  birds,  in  the  crested  corn, 
When  the  day  is  done  and  the  night  is  nigh 
May  I  have  hymned  such  a  melody 

As  yours  to  pierce  to  the  purple  sky ! 


48  SUB  QUO  CCELOf 


SUB   QUO   CCELO? 

WHO  says  that  summer  has  no  snow ? 
Look  at  the  rose-buds  in  summer- 
hair, 

Fragrant  snow-flakes  floating  there 
Into  the  white  drift  of  her  brow. 

Who  says  no  flowers  the  ice-lands  grace  ? 
Look  at  the  violets  liquid  blue 
Staining  me  purple  through  and  through, 

In  the  Frigid  Zone  of  her  frowning  face. 

I  know  not  if  the  summer  's  gone : 

I  know  not  if  the  winter  be  : 

The  twice  two  seasons  are  mixed  for  me 
Who  follow  the  moods  of  this  fairest  one. 


THE  SOUL.  49 


THE   SOUL. 

'T^HINE  eyes  are  clear  with  soul  therein. 

1       Beneath  the  laces  of  the  lash 
There  shines  a  light  pure  as  is  seen 
In  reflex  of  a  brilliant's  flash. 

And  as  the  sunbeam  lights  the  stone 
And  lends  its  luster  to  the  gem, 

So  too  thine  eyes'  light 's  not  their  own  ; 
The  soul  it  is  which  shines  in  them. 


50  IN  THE  AUTUMN  WOOD. 


T 


IN   THE   AUTUMN    WOOD. 

HE  autumn-wounded  bleeding  wood 
Draws  close  around  its  cloak  of  mist 
To  hide  the  clinging  blood. 


The  red  leaves  fly  against  my  face 

With  slender  claws  of  fir  and  pine, 

Like  birds  intruders  chase. 

A  sunbeam  weary  of  its  flight 
Lies  panting  on  the  maple's  breast, 
A  languid  shape  of  light. 

Or  is  it  a  last  butterfly 
Softly  waving  with  rainbow  wings, 
This  envoy  of  the  sky  ? 

Yon  late  flower  seems  in  its  retreat 
An  alabaster  vase  of  spice, 

Broken  at  Autumn's  feet. 


IN  THE  A  UTUMN  WOOD.  51 

Invisible  its  odors  fly 
In  rapid  rings  of  spikenard  sweet 
Into  the  purple  sky. 

I  feel  their  light  touch  on  my  face, 
As  when  we  feel  the  silken  sweep 
Of  wings  in  some  dim  place. 

What  faint  far  birds  are  those  which  sing 
Like  hopes  of  summer  trouped  for  rout, 
Like  dreams  on  waking  wing  ? 

Their  music  sets  my  fancy  free. 
I  hear  the  oaten  pipe  of  Pan 
In  sylvan  minstrelsy. 

Strange  dryads  roam  the  darkling  wood 
And  deep  illusive  eyes  delude 
Of  Faun  and  forest-god. 

I  pull  with  them  the  flammeous  grape ; 
I  crush  wild  wine  of  memory 
Until  my  pulses  leap. 

I  live  again  the  happy  time 
When  earth  was  all  a  singing-place, 
And  love  my  only  rhyme. 


52  IN  THE  A  UTUMN  WOOD. 

And  now  the  heavy  gloom  of  care 
Is  on  the  autumn's  wings  of  haze 
Floating,  fading,  lost  in  air. 


DURING  A  SONATA.  53 


DURING    A   SONATA. 

THE  music-perfume  poured  around  me 
makes 

The  very  soul  within  me  drunk, 
While  she  is  playing  in  a  fragrant  sea 
Of  liquid  notes  the  wimble  fire  of  art 
Diffuses  into  scented  harmony. 

i 
She  holds  my  heart   in   her  white   restless 

hands, 

And  would  a  melody  it  were, 
That  she  interpret  its  impassioned  strain ! 
For  then  her  ear  would  harken  to  the  plea, 
Which  trembles  at  its  pink  approach  in  vain. 


54  WITH  A  FOUR-LEAVED  CLOVER. 


WITH  A  FOUR-LEAVED  CLOVER. 

THERE  is  a  tender  little  flower 
So  meek,  so  soft  with  sympathy, 
They  cling  together  happily 
In  a  scented  circlet-portraiture 
Of  sixty  minutes  in  the  hour 
I  spent  upon  their  drowsy  bed, 
To  wreathe  bands  for  her  burnished  head 
And  find  Hap's  four-leaved  clover  flower. 

The  mead  and  I  miss  each  of  them ; 

The  bumble-bee  waits  for  their  sweet. 

My  four-leaved  clover  faded,  dim 

With  me  I  offer  at  her  feet. 

Do  I  wake  or  do  I  dream  ? 

She  makes  my  happiness  complete  ! 


TO  THE  MOUNTAIN  MIST. 


TO    THE    MOUNTAIN    MIST. 

(The  Alleghanies,  1892.) 

MIST  that  clings  so  soft 
To  the  green  lace  upon  the  mountain's 
breast, 

With  downy  wings  sky-sent 
To  brood  the  beauty  of  the  rocks  divest, 
Far  on  thy  pinions  blue 
My  soul  would  fly  with  thee,  empyreal  mist. 

Forgetful  of  cold  reason 

My  rhyme  would  bear  my  soul  in  mystery 

Dissolving  in  thy  vapor ; 

A  soul  to  dream  such  volant  dreams  as  fly 

From  reason's  hardening  hands, 

Like  smoke-designs  in  artist-fingers  die. 

Diffused  in  glyns  and  dingles; 

Glad  as    the   wild-grape  wine's  unravished 

mirth ; 
Part  of  air's  purity 


5(5  TO   THE  MOUNTAIN  MIST. 

My  soul  would   float  to-day  from   sorrow's 

dearth — 

A  wish  thy  Weirds  are  laughing 
As  old  as  longing  and  their  purple  birth ! 


B 


A  SERENADE.  57 


A   SERENADE. 

UDS  of  the  lily-Graces 

Hiding  their  snowy  faces 
Weary  resisting,  languidly  lie. 
The  lover  current  is  kissing, 
Kissing  and  closely  pressing 
His  lips  to  their  love-pale  lips  with  a  sigh. 

Sweet,  I  float  in  trie  flowers 

Under  the  silvern  shores. — 
What  if  the  lime  and  the  lilies  are  fair  ? 

Silverest  moon  is  dreary, 

Whitest  pond-lilies  weary 
Until  my  lily,  my  love  is  here. 

Soon  will  the  moon  be  shaded, 

Soon  will  lilies  be  faded, 
The   water   will   darken,    the  warmness  be 
cold. 

Come  ere  the  lilies  wither, 

List  to  my  plaining  zither, 
Come  ere  the  night  and  we  grow  old. 


58  FATE- 


FATE. 

TWO  birds  go  singing  over  head, 
Two  swallows  swift  and  sweet. 
Their  glad  love  lay  makes  melody 
While  day  and  darkness  mate. 

They  build  their  nest  in  a  mossy  ruin 
Whose  guests  have  long  been  dead, 

And  gaily  chirp  in  the  solitude 
Of  halls  no  foot-falls  thread. 

For  some  must  hush  for  some  to  sing, 
And  joy  comes  after  grief. 

Palace  will  mold,  but  nest  will  build, 
And  death  createth  life. 


TO  A  SLIPPER.  59 


TO   A   SLIPPER. 

IN  the  dream  of  the  languous  valse 
Softly  circle 
Silver  with  sheen  of  the  silver  light, 

Slender  slipper, 

When  the  touch  of  her  tiny  foot  falls, 
Kissing  its  shadow  as  day  does  night. 

In  the  mutable  maze  lead  my  love 

Lightly,   smoothly 
As  swallow  sailing  o'  evening  late, 

Burnishepl  slipper, 
Like  the  down  of  a  tremulous  dove 
Winging,  gleaming  by  with  its  mate. 

In  the  drift  of  the  vagrant  valse 

Slowly  circle, 
Hiding  the  heart  which  I  place  in  thine, 

Silken  slipper, 

Ere  the  weight  of  her  proud  foot  falls 
Crushing  cruelly,  knowing  it  mine. 


AN  A  UTUMN  SONG. 


AN   AUTUMN   SONG. 

IN  the  wood 
Autumn  presses  her  wine, 
Till  the  flood 

Overpours  every  tree  and  vine, 
Staining  leaves  and  the  golden  weed 
With  sardoin  and  sulphur  shine. 

In  the  hills 
Flutters  the  falling  leaf. 

It  appeals 

To  my  heart  as  a  symbol  of  grief, 
Sinking  down  in  the  breast  of  the  wind 
Which  gusts  over  stubble  and  sheaf. 

In  the  air 
Are  strange  echoes  and  murmurings. 

From  the  bare 

Bush  where  yon  late  bird  swings 
And  sings,  are  the  leaves  awhirl 
Like  a  covey  of  birdless  wings. 


AN  A  UTUMN  SONG. 

Ere  thy  flight 
Bird,  why  sing — if  bird  thou  art, 

Not  a  sprite, 

Nor  a  fancy  of  autumn's  heart. 
Thinkest  thou  the  foot-falls  of  woe 

From  the  wood  at  song  will  depart? 

• 

And  I  am 
Dazed  at  hearing  thee  sing. — 

In  my  dream 

And  the  mystic  visions  which  spring 
In  the  heart  at  the  fall  of  the  leaf, 
When  the  roses  are  withering. 

So  farewell ! 
No  other  singing,  nor  thine 

Can  dispel 

The  mist  from  the  hill  and  the  sign 
Of  sorrow  which  is  set  in  the  wood, 
In  days  of  the  summer's  decline. 


62  TO-DA  Y. 


TO-DAY. 

THE  swarth  night  draws  his  eager  cur 
tains  low 

About  the  gold  loclcs  of  the  winsome  west. 
The  hint  provokes  a  holy  passion-glow 
When  day's  divest. 

I  long  to  couch  me  with  this  sweet  to-day 

Who  rambled  through  the  rosies  sunnily, 

If  this  pure  wife  might  haply  gender  me 

Such  heirs  as  she. 


TO  A  FALLEN  LEAF.  $3 


TO  A  FALLEN  LEAF. 

THE  happy  summer  lived  with  thee, 
Happy  with  bloom  and  bird  returned, 
Now  all  thy  beauty  blear  and  burned, 
The  weeping  summer  dies  with  thee. 
The  autumn's  winds  low  threnody, 
A  dirge  for  all  thy  kindred  mourned, 
Sighs  o'er  thy  fallen  form  un-urned 
Beneath  the  forest's  feet  to  lie. 

But  soon  will  snow  with  silent  hand 

Spread  crystal  wreaths  and  winding  sheet ; 

And  tears  adorn  thee  and  thy  band 
Beneath  whose  tarnished  coronet 

Many  a  narrow  mound  will  stand, 
Where  happiest  summers  terminate. 


64  SUB  ROSA. 


SUB    ROSA. 

1HAVE  fallen  in  love  with  a  rose 
And  have  plighted  my  faith  to  hers 
For  her  sweetness  when  I  was  sad 
And  her  tender  responsive  tears. 

She  had  wept  all  the  night,  as  I, 
At  such  sorrows  we  have,  not  you 

Who  laugh  at  the  fanciful  griefs 
Which  a  rose  and  a  dreamer  know. 

I  have  gathered  the  rose  to  my  heart : 
But,  rose,  is  my  love  so  true 

Since  you  fell  from  the  careless  breast 
Of  a  lady  more  fair  than  you  ? 


A  CLUSTER  OF  GRAPES.  (55 


A    CLUSTER    OF   GRAPES. 

MLSTY-purple  globes, 
Beads   which    brown    autumn 

strings 

Upon  her  robes, 
Like  amethyst  ear-rings 
Behind  a  bridal  veil 
Your  veils  of  bloom  their  gems  reveal. 

Mellow,  sunny-sweet 
Ye  lure  the  banded  bee 

To  juicier  treat, 
Aiding  his  tipsy. spree 
With  more  dulcet  wine 
Than  clover  white  or  wild  woodbine. 

Dripping  rosy  dreams 
To  me  of  happy  hall 

Where  laughter  trims 
The  lamps  till  swallow-call ; 
Of  flowery  cup. and  throng 
Of  men  made  gods  in  wit  and  song. 


66  A  CLUSTER  OF  GRAPES. 

Holding  purer  days 
Your  luscious  fruitfulness, 

When  prayer  and  praise 
The  bleeding  ruby  bless, 
And  memory  sees  the  blood 
Of  Christ  the  Savior,  God  and  good. 

Monks  of  lazy  hills, 
Stilling  the  rich  sunshine 

Within  your  cells, 
Teach  me  to  have  such  wine 
Within  my  breast  as  this 
Of  faith,  of  song,  of  happiness. 


VERSE.  67 


VERSE. 

FOOLISH  we  think  to  make  our  verses 
bright 

By  writing*  ruby,  diamond,  sapphire,   gem. 
Foolish  we  fear  to  make  our  verses  dim 
By  writing  rust,  tarnish,  cloudy,  trite. 
Carping  his  song  retards  no  swallow's  flight ; 
Singing    of  summer  maketh  sprout  no  as 
phodel  ; 

Calling  it  dark  opaques  no  crystal  well ; 
Calling  it  crystal  sweets  no  brackish  bight. 

The  age  is  of  form- verses,  not  of  power. 
We  strive  to  philter  muses  with  such  herbs 
Of  speech,  as  witch  ne'er  demon  with  the 

lure 

Of  plants  so  sapless.     Let  the  magic  herbs 
Of  rhythm,  pungent  and  powerful  conjure 
The  Nine  in  fewer  adjectives,  more  verbs. 


68  THE  EPIPHANY. 


THE   EPIPHANY. 

CHRIST,  Thou  art  born ;  Thy  star  is  in 
the  sky. 

*l  seem  to  see  three  camels  tread  the  plain 
Laden  with  precious  gold  and  nard  again 
At  the  new  symbol  of  Epiphany. 
Perchance   the   magi  from  death's  swathes 

are  free, 

Their  limbs  unmuffled  from  the  spicy  fold, 
The   stones    from    off    their    crumbling 

couches  rolled 
To  suffer  them  again  to  worship  Thee. 

Jesus  Savior,  keep  our  vision  clear, 

And  make  our  souls  from  faithless  dark 
ness  free 
To  see  in  Heaven  always  thy  guiding  star, 

Always  the  light  of  thy  Epiphany ; 
That  the  fainter  grow  the  scenes  of  earth 

and  far, 

The  fairer  grow  our  sense  of  Heaven  and 
Thee. 


TO  THE  STARS.  59 


TO   THE  STARS. 

TREMULOUS  slaves  of  the  light, 
Blue  and  silver  and  white, 

At  glance  of  the  moon, 
Stars,  are  ye  pale  with  fright  ? 

Are  your  beams  buds  in  a  spray, 
Bloom  of  ethereous  sea 

Which  maidens  hold 
Glad  in  eternity  ?     „ 

Or  gems  in  the  angel's  breast, 
Bearing  dead  souls  to  rest 

Unto  heaven — 
Gems  of  his  lucent  vest. 

Secret  my  soul  would  know 
Flashes  to  me  below  : 

' '  Learn  that  we  are 
Eyes  of  the  gods  oh  you !  " 


70  TO  A  MOCKING  BIRD. 


TO   A   MOCKING   BIRD. 

WHEN  the  slender  shallop  of  the  moon 
Glides  among  the  lights  on  the  azure 
sea, 

Propelled   by  sails    unseen    and  winds   un 
known, 

Dashing  softly  earthward  a  silver  spray, 
Wakeful  thou  art  singing  dreamily. 

All  not  beautiful  is  now  unseen 
Beneath  the  silver-plating  of  the  spray. 
The  white-robed  Earth  swings  incense  from 

her  fane, 
And  silent  are  the  choristers  for  thee 

To  chant  the  lesson  of  thy  ecstasy. 

Brown-surpliced  prelate  of  flowery  glade, 
The  interwoven  notes  of  melody 
Which  loudly  fill  thy  ruffled  throat  or  fade 
And  faint  adagio  from  tree  to  tree 
Were  made  for  such  a  night,  the  night  for 
thee. 


TO  A  MOCKING  BIRD.  71 

Fragrant  almost  is  thy  minstrelsy  : 

I   scarcely  know  which  sense   receives  the 

bliss ; 

I  hear  it,  smell  it  with  the  apple  tree 
And  even  feel  it  with  the  breezes'  kiss, 

So  all-pervading  is  its  tenderness. 

The  ocean  ever  singeth  to  the  exiled  shell : 
Far  summers  echo  in  thy  plaintive  lay 
Which  seems   to   hold   the   music  and  the 

smell 
Of   scenes  of  many  a  vanished  June  and 

May, 
Kept  as  shells  keep  the  memory  of  the  sea. 

Holy,  holy  is  each  phantasy 
Awakened  by  thy  song — a  prayer  more  true 
Than  any  Christian  ever  sent  on  high. 
And  peace  and  calmness  follow  thy  adieu, 
As  the  pure  orison  transcends  the  blue. 


72  AN  OLD  MAID. 


AN    OLD    MAID. 

THROUGH   warmer  glows  of  girlhood 
days 

She  meekly  passed,  her  love  conceived 
Immaculate.     Her  soft  heart  grieved, 
Still  bleeds  with  flowing  sympathies. 
A  noble  woman  she  portrays 
The  sensitive  soul  misunderstood, 
The  hungry  heart  starving  for  food, 
The  woman  wronged  of  love  and  praise. 

What  if  no  mesh  of  scarlet  cheeks, 
No  lure  of  eyes,  nor  silken  tress 
Detain  beauty  captive  ?     Who  seeks 
The  soul  heeds  not  its  humble  dress. 
The  sweetness  of  her  smile  bespeaks 
Pure  beauty  born  of  saintliness. 


UNDER  A  PICTURE.  73 


UNDER    A    PICTURE. 

lamplight    faints    and    croons    the 
1  fire's  flame, 

Then  pagan  silence  rests  my  chairs  among. 
Above  the  mantel  hangs  an  oaken  frame — 
Love  smiles  on  kneeling  me  idolatrous. 

An    oaken    frame    with    wreath    of    silver 

sheaves — 

Faunus  did  carve  the  wooden  thing  for  me, 
And  twisted  to  the  rim  some  slender  leaves 
Which  frost  had  mellowed  with  a  soft  white 

fire. 

Her  image  pensive  through  a  circled  glass. 
She  looked  one  moon  into  a  mirror-pool; 
The  loving  waters  crystallized  her  face, 
And  Cupid  cut  this  picture  in  the  disc. 

Faunus  and  Cupid !  did  these  twain  recall 
That  I  had  mocked  the  old  gods  as  a  dream  ? 
Now  is  a  goddess  in  my  heathen  hall, 
Bright  face  of  heaven  in  a  temple  dim. 


74  EI2  POAON. 


Ell  POAON. 

(From  Anakreon.) 

OROSE  of  the  Loves, 
Let  us  steep  it  in  wine, 
The  beauty-leaved  rose 
Round  our  temples  entwine 
While  we  drink,  while  we  smile. 
Rose,  fairest  flower, 
Boast  of  spring's  bower, 
Even  gods  you  beguile. 
And  Cythera's  boy 
Twists  the  rose  in  his  hair 

As  he  leads  on  the  dance 
With  the  Graces  to  share. 
Crown  me  then  while  I  play, 

0  Bacchus  to  thee  : 
Round  thy  shrine,  god  of  wine, 

With  a  deep-bosomed  girl, 
Rosy  wreaths  on  my  brow, 

1  shall  whirl,  I  shall  whirl. 


UNDER   THE  MISTLETOE.  75 


UNDER   THE   MISTLETOE. 

(To  E.  H.) 

A  THOUGHT'S  span  holding  mistletoe 
l\     Gathered  from  the  braw  oak's  breast — 
The  sun's  orbed  fire  seems  altar  flame, 
The  wrinkled  oak  a  Druid  priest. 

Silently  I  bend  my  head 

Until  the  Druid  cease  to  pray 
And  chant  to  beads  of  mistletoe 

Ancient  Briton  carmina. 

The  mistletoe  hath  green  gold  pins 
Where  pearls  of  waxen  berries  glow : 

Such  things  as  hold  a  lady's  hair — 
What  if  my  love  should  stand  below  ? 

With  brown  large  eyes  where  darkness  haunts 
As  in  the  deep  of  dreamy  stream  ; 

Her  braided  hair  in  curves  and  curls 
With  just  enough  of  gold  to  gleam. 


76  UNDER   THE  MISTLETOE. 

I  'd  kneel  me  on  the  happy  leaves 

Trembling  and  warm  beneath  her  feet, 

And  gentle  draw  her  down  beside 
Until  the  forfeit  were  complete. 

The  oak  tree  sighs ;  remembers  he 
The  vine  which  clung  about  his  breast 

And  twined  love-flowers  into  his  locks? 
Make  I  and  Druid  one  request  ? 

I  wonder  if  his  god  more  kind, 
Or  he  a  tenderer  prayer  can  pray, 

And  if  the  Druid  wins  his  wish 

Which  God  Jehovah  grants  not  me  ?* 


TO  A  STRING  OF  PEARLS. 


77 


TO    A   STRING   OF  PEARLS. 


W 


KITE  weal  of  the  sea 
Cling  tenderly 
As  I,  if  I  thus  were  blest. 
Smoother  than  silk 
Of  first  dews  of  milk 
Which  shine  on  the  pinks  of  a  breast. 

Is  each  a  gem 
Which  once  did  gleam 

From  lips  like  the  sard  for  red? 
Cold  in  the  grave 
Which  pale  tides  lave 

With  froth  and  the  wan  sea-weed. 

Strung  on  a  strand 

Of  floss  as  bland 
As  tresses  of  red,  red  gold, 

Pearls,  were  ye  thread 

From  dead  lips  and  head 
As  the  moaning  waves  have  told  ? 


7S  FAITH. 


FAITH. 

HE  gathers  all  his  squadrons  some  brave 
day 
He,  Youth,   commanding,  and  his  captain 

Hope. 

Ambition,  Faith,  Love  rally  on  the  slope 
Which  lifts  unto  the  enemy's  array. 
Bold  cavalry  with  restless  sword  and  steed, 
The  banners  curling  and  the  bugles  blown, 
Thy  flash,   thy  courage  and  thy  might  are 

thrown 
Up  hill  into  a  fatal  enfilade. 

Life's  batteries  unmask  with  many  a  gun ; 
And  thick  hail  hurtles  the  impulsive  band  : 
Love's  sabre  falters  ere  the  summit's  won ; 
Ambition  wounded  wails  his  nerveless  hand. 
But  Faith  stands  on  the  envied  height  alone, 
Spikes  the  last  gun  and  waves  his  bannered 
wand. 


NOCTURNE.  79 


NOCTURNE. 

THERE  trembles  near  my  starlit  way 
A  timid  rose 
Which  seems  a  fragrant  flake  of  snow 

That  summer  brings 
Back  to  the  air  whence  winter  tore  the  spray. 

The  white  shell  dropeth  a  pearl-tear 

When  it  is  culled  : 
This  rose  which  knows  her  not  is  sad, 

And  I  'd  be  glad 
To  die  upon  her  beauty's  buds  or  hair. 

Sadly  I  listen  where  he  flies 

In  path  of  song 
To  mocking-bird  I  startle  doomed  to  die 

Within  the  lake, 
Mistaking  its  clear  mirror  for  the  skies. 

But  as  I  cross  the  lichened  bars 

Into  the  lane, 
I  smile  to  hear  some  love-lorn  lad 

To  slender  maid 
Swearing  her  bright  tender  eyes  are  stars. 


80  NOCTURNE. 

I  wander  till  far  worlds  grow  faint 

And  fainter  grow, 
Until  their  gray  blends  with  day  skies, 

And  morning  birds 
Mock  at  my  singing  with  a  mild  complaint. 


THOU.  8l 


THOU. 

(To  E.  H.) 

DUSK  gold  of  scented  hair  thy  coronet, 
Twisted    and   tangled  with  a  careless 

care, 

Clinging  about  thy  temples  smooth  and  fair 
As   some   pure  things   the    snow   confesses 

white. 

And  when  thy  mysteries  of  deep  eyes  speak 
Rebuke,  soft  with  their  wounded  tenderness, 
Enchanted  I  with  beauty's  holiness 
Stagger  like  one    between   the   dream   and 

wake. 

With  sard  and  alabaster  of  thy  face 
Give  of  thy  mouth  the  pearl  and  coral  red, 
And  let  these  gems  my  happy  cottage  grace  ; 
Then   men   shall   point   of  me  when   I   am 

dead : 

"  Behold  !  a  miser  lived  in  yonder  place, 
And  in  his  heart  was  all  his  treasure  hid ! " 


82  WHEN. 


WHEN. 

WHEN  laughter  flew 
My  world  wide  through 
Glad  winged  as  homing,  happy  dove, 
And  autumn's  flail 
Swept  summer's  trail, — 
I  asked  my  love. 

When  her  brown  eyes 
Shown  bright  as  is 

The  seven-toned  light  from  worlds  above, 
And  Youth's  pen  traced 
Life's  etchings  chaste, — 
I  blessed  my  love. 

When  her  dear  eyes 
Are  wet  as  lies 

A  deep,  deep  pool  while  rain-drops  rove, 
And  sorrow  halts 
Within  their  vaults, — 
God  keep  my  love  ! 


WHEN.  83 

When  clear  light  flies 
My  love's  big  eyes, 
As  bird  will  leave  his  chosen  nest, 
When  we  are  old 
My  heart  shall  fold 
And  love  her  best. 


84  THE  SILENT  GA  TES. 


THE   SILENT   GATES. 

THROUGH  the  silent  gates 
There  comes  the  slow,  sweet  breath 

Of  roses  dozing, 
And  whispered  intercourse 

Of  wind  and  leaves. 

There  the  shadows  fall 
Like  wings  of  weary  birds 

Feebly  fluttering, 
Till  sunbeams  cover  them 

With  nets  of  gold. 

Through  the  silent  gates 

There  comes  the  quick  coarse  cry 

Of  ravens  calling, 
And  the  sodden  sound 

Of  falling  clay. 

There  the  marble  doors 
Display  their  snow  in  which 

Are  traced  sad  legends 
And  the  carven  names 

Of  guests  within. 


THJE  SILENT  GA  TES.  35 


There  our  sleepers  sleep — 
And  you  and  I  who  wake 

Beyond  the  grating 
Of  the  silent  gates 

Are  drowsy,  waiting. 


gg  CHORAL    ODE. 


CHORAL   ODE. 

(Euripides'  Medea,  lines  627-662.) 

THE  Loves  in  excess  bring  nor  virtue 
nor  fame, 

But  if  Cypris  gently  should  come, 
No  goddess  of  heaven  so  pleasing  a  dame : 
Yet   never,    O    mistress,    in    sure    passion 

steeped, 
Aim  at  me  thy  gold  bow's  barbed  flame. 

May  temperance  watch  o'er  me,  best  gift  of 

the  gods, 

May  ne'er  to  wild  wrangling  and  strifes 
Dread   Cypris  impel   me  soul-pierced  with 

strange  lust ; 
But  with   favoring   eye  on  the  quarrelless 

couch 
Spread  she  wisely  the  love-beds  of  wives ! 

Oh  fatherland !  Oh  native  home  ! 

Never  city-less 
May  I  tread  the  weary  path  of  want 


CHORAL  ODE.  37 

Ever  pitiless 

And  full  of  doom ; 

But  on  that  day  to  death,  to  death  be  slave ! 
Without  a  country  's  worse  than  in  a  grave. 

Mine  eye  hath  seen,  nor  do  I  muse 

On  other's  history. 

Nor  home  nor  friend  bewails  thy  nameless 
pangs.— 

Perish  dismally 
The  fiend  who  fails 

To  cherish  friends,  turning  the  guileless  key 

Of  candor's  gate !  Such  friend  be  far  from 

me  ! 


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